


an interlude

by towokuwusatsuwu



Series: Pride 2018: 30 Days of S.W.O.R.D. [30]
Category: HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, As far as can be expected of Hyuga, Demon Deals, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Healing, Injury, M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 05:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15112955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: “Hisa, you know you should call on me if it gets this intense. All you have to do is say my name and I’m right there.” Kato smirks down at him, preening over this knowledge.Hyuga scoffs. “Funny. Every time I yell outassholeyou’re never there, are you?”“Funny, now, aren’t we?” Kato’s hands ghost over the bruises, touching them just enough that Hyuga squirms. Having your ribs healed like this feels strange; he can feel them moving beneath his skin back into place, and it stings just a little.





	an interlude

The shabby apartment is not much. Hyuga Norihisa knows this. The fabric of the worn couch has rips through it, the air stale with smoke from his pipe and smoke from Kato’s fingertips, the residue of his flames. The shades are always drawn to keep out the harsh sunlight giving the interior a gloomy cast even on sunny afternoons like this one, but Hyuga has never been fond of the sun and while Kato can tolerate it, extended exposure makes him grouchy in ways that Hyuga is sure have nothing to do with who he is and rather what he is. The kitchen contains few dishes, only the bare essentials, and the refrigerator is much the same. Half the time, he falls asleep on the couch instead of dragging himself the few feet to his bedroom, really just a plastic tote of clothing and a futon he occasionally has to share.

It might not be much, certainly nothing compared to the lavish household he once lived in when the Hyuga Group was still alive and well, when they had money coming in through so many shady sources they never had to worry about finances. But the space is still home, and when Hyuga slouches through the doorway bruised and exhausted after another fight, he finds himself grateful just to have something to come back to in the first place. The same cannot be said for the figure lounging against the wall, who would look out of place even if he was not sitting cross-legged while hovering several feet above the floor.

“Looks like you lost again,” he muses, and Hyuga narrows his eyes at him as he kicks his shoes off at the door, locking up behind him as he does. “Come here and let me see the worst of it. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“Who asked you?” Hyuga ignores him, dropping down on the couch, swinging his legs up onto the cushions and letting himself get comfortable. The couch is worn down enough that it fits perfectly around the shape of his body and he sighs, letting his eyes droop shut.

This is a mistake. He should know by now to keep his eyes on his house guest, well-versed as he is in the other’s patterns and complete lack of understanding of personal space and boundaries. Within minutes, there are fingers sliding down the side of Hyuga’s cheek over one of his fresh bruises, the pressure making him hiss and twist his face away but not before the ache disappears, healed from his skin like it was never there. He knows that if he checks in a mirror, the discoloration will be gone, the blemish fully removed.

“You need to stop acting like it kills you to have me do this.” Kato takes him by the chin and twists his head back around, fingers probing Hyuga’s split lip, the bloody cut over his eyebrow, the bruises here and there, one blacking out his eye. “Did you know you can fight more often if you heal between fights? That should appeal to you more than this does.”

Kato knows him too well. The thought makes Hyuga only slightly uncomfortable and he sighs, letting Kato turn his head this way and that, though he stiffens when Kato touches his neck, his sore shoulder, smacking his hand away before it can wander elsewhere. Part of the reason Kato knows him so well is that Hyuga never knows how to keep his mouth properly shut and the prospect of healing the scars on his chest excited him enough to drop a major truth or two.

When he opens his eyes, he finds Kato hovering in the air above him, arms folded over his chest, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowed. The complete lack of amusement in the expression brings a slight smile to Hyuga’s lips, the thought that he can prompt a look like this from someone like Kato one of the few aspects of their shared life he thoroughly enjoys. When Kato sighs down at him, he relents again, pulling his shirt up and over his head, letting Kato see the bruises on his torso, the particularly dark ones over his ribs. They might be broken.

“Hisa, you know you should call on me if it gets this intense. All you have to do is say my name and I’m right there.” Kato smirks down at him, preening over this knowledge.

Hyuga scoffs. “Funny. Every time I yell out  _ asshole _ you’re never there, are you?”

“Funny, now, aren’t we?” Kato’s hands ghost over the bruises, touching them just enough that Hyuga squirms. Having your ribs healed like this feels strange; he can feel them moving beneath his skin back into place, and it stings just a little.

The entire process would only take a few minutes, but Hyuga likes to drag it out just to watch Kato stress over him, always curious about the reactions Kato has for him. The two of them have been twined together for months now, and Kato still swears up and down he has no taste for mortals, that Hyuga is more of a burden to him, that he ought to be long worth the wait to complete their deal. He could be crueler in how he heals, though, or not offer to do it at all. All he has to do is keep Hyuga alive. There was nothing about in perfect condition.

When he finishes, he lowers himself down to the couch arm at Hyuga’s feet, legs still crossed neatly beneath him, chin resting in his hands. “Why don’t you ever call on me?”

“If I needed your help, I wouldn’t be getting into fights in the first place. I want revenge. You have no stake in this except for me.” Hyuga lets his head thump back against the couch arm behind his head, his messy hair falling into his eyes, obscuring his view of Kato. “If I wanted you to do it for me, it would already be done, wouldn’t it? This is about me getting revenge.”

“If you say so. When was the last time you ate anything?” Kato pokes him in the ankle; Hyuga pulls it away from him, making a face at him.

Instead of answering, he grunts and pushes himself up from the couch, accepting the implication there and heading to the kitchen. Cup noodles are cheap and easy; he can make them fast, eat them fast, and be done with them so he can return to his day. Not that he has anything to do now, but he wants to take a nap after that fight because while Kato can heal wounds just fine, the fatigue still leeches through Hyuga’s bones and muscles.

Kato takes a seat on the rickety kitchen table, legs swinging back and forth while Hyuga twists the hot water on in the sink. “You’ve been acting differently the last few days.”

“Tomorrow is my oldest brother’s birthday. Or, it would have been.” The words are bitter on Hyuga’s tongue, the tang worse than blood, a sharper sting than any alcohol.

“I thought it would be something to do with your family. It’s always something about them that upsets you. A birthday, an anniversary. Always something.” Kato cocks his head at him when Hyuga looks at him, not liking where this line of conversation is going. “Do you want to do something for it? Take flowers to his grave? Humans do such things regularly, I believe.”

The question is blunt and to the point, just like Kato always is. Hyuga wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, not that sentimental, not ready to face his brother’s grave just yet. The destruction of Hyuga Group has always grated on him, the disconnect between his family and Kuryu, the eventual deaths of his family as a result. It makes him sick to his stomach to think about it even as it boils his blood, runs his vision crimson.

The same red as Kato’s hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail, smooth across his scalp.

“Not interested,” he finally grits out, holding his cup noodles under the faucet when steam starts to rise from the basin of the sink, a sign the water is finally hot enough.

Kato makes no move to give him space when Hyuga comes to sit at the table, just turns around to face him, pulling his legs up onto the table. His weight will break it one day, of that Hyuga is certain, but he has a habit for perching on high spaces like a cat and it seems easier to stop arguing with him and simply let him be.

“Suit yourself,” he says, stretching out a hand, tucking Hyuga’s hair out of his eyes with careful fingers. “You can’t eat with your hair in your face. You’ll end up swallowing some of it.”

“Is that why you keep yours pulled back? So you’re always ready to eat?” Hyuga asks.

He knows how Kato eats because it had been explained to him before their hands ever clasped, before the tattoo on the palm of his hand ever ingrained itself onto his skin. Left unbound, Kato’s hair would be long enough to fall into his face, possibly slip between his mouth and the mouth of one of his lucky victims. Hyuga wonders briefly if it feels like a kiss, or simply looks like one; Kato had been vague on that detail, just that mouth to mouth was the easier way.

Kato smirks down at him, eyebrows arching up. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Hyuga doesn’t think to grab chopsticks or a fork on his way to the table; he’s unamused when Kato removes a pair of chopsticks from his sleeve with a knowing smile, offering them to him. They feel expensive and he has questions but he does not ask them, content to eat his noodles in the relative silence. When it comes to Kato, Hyuga has learned to let small things go, to let Kato simply have his quirks and secrets instead of trying to pick them out of his head. He might never understand who or what Kato truly is, after all; human concepts never quite match up to the real thing and Kato only likes to play encyclopedia for so long before it annoys him.

Hyuga can understand that. When he was younger, there were plenty of questions he never liked to answer, the inquiry dragging his spirits, always feeling like a test of his knowledge rather than an attempt to understand. He likes Kato for that reason. Kato never asks questions; he accepts Hyuga for who he is at face value, and human concepts of what gender is and how it works hardly match up to his own kind. He has no reason to pick at details.

“You’re tired, Hisa,” Kato tells him, tapping the top of his head.

Hyuga smacks his hand away. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“It’s cute, though.” Kato half-pouts at him and his hand returns, fingers loosely curling in Hyuga’s messy black hair. “A cute nickname for a cute boy. That’s how it goes from what I’ve seen.”

“I’m not  _ your _ cute boy, last I checked,” Hyuga mutters.

Kato’s hand is in his face then, fingers spread wide, a mirror of Hyuga’s own tattoo dark on his skin, a reminder of the contract between them. “Aren’t you, though? You belong to me.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hyuga takes him by the hand, can feel the slight warmth in his palm when their tattoos match up, the connection between them alive and bright, strong as always. After all, Hyuga meant it when he said he wanted to make the deal.

Kato takes the empty cup from him and tosses it in the trash before dragging him bodily through the apartment, kicking an empty bottle out of his way as he goes. It vanishes into a shadow and Hyuga squints, unsurprised when a closer look reveals the bottle has properly disappeared, another pointless show of power because Kato would never clean of his own volition.

The bedroom is dark, the curtains pulled over the one window, leaving it bathed in shadows. Kato throws his own clothing aside, taking a seat on the edge of the futon, giving Hyuga an expectant look as he holds his hand to him. Though Kato absolutely does not have to take care of him, he does; Hyuga wonders about this, but never truly picks at it. Maybe having no label is fine for now. Maybe having no label is just better for the both of them, for whatever this all is.

He sheds his own clothing, leaving his boxers on, before he takes Kato’s hand. The marks burn hotter, almost uncomfortably, before Kato pulls him down, trapping him in the thin worn blanket, spooning up against him. Winter is on the way but Hyuga is never cold with Kato’s natural fire at his back, arms folded around his body to keep him warm and safe all winter long.

“Get some rest, Hisa,” Kato whispers against his ear, and Hyuga lets it go, just this once.


End file.
